


Flexibility

by ramblingAnthropologist



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Al's gotta go talk to Mordin about Turian reproductive anatomy now, Alistair Shepard is not smooth, Love Confession, M/M, confession scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingAnthropologist/pseuds/ramblingAnthropologist
Summary: "We can test your reach... and my flexibility."Reality is never that smooth. Actual love confessions have more awkward pauses and red faces, at least where Alistair Shepard is concerned. However, he's not about to let this chance go, even if it is nearly five hours later. Hopefully Garrus appreciates it. Otherwise, that is going to be one awkward walk back to the elevator.





	Flexibility

Alistair Shepard was no stranger to the spirit of the stairs. If there was ever a competition for coming up with the perfect line after a conversation had ended, he would be standing on the winner's podium with a Ledeckian finish. Indeed, he was the master of figuring out what to say long after it was useful or needed.

Which was why at 02:04 space time, he rocketed up from a deep sleep, eyes wide.

“Goddamn it!”

The pants on the floor were mostly clean, good enough to go over his lucky star-covered boxers. He hopped into them one leg at a time as he made a break for the door, pausing only to grab what Joker called his N7 hoodie. Hell, Alistair didn't even realize he wasn't wearing his binder until he was in the elevator heading down to the crew deck and looked down.

Oh well, what the fucking hell. It wouldn't matter if he got this right.

There were still some crew eating as he ran past the large table, gunning it for the main battery. Some of them definitely made jokes about where the fire was as he ran past, but it didn't register. He only slowed down briefly to check his appearance in the shine of the cryopod closest to the door.

“Nice bedhead, Commander.”

Joker was snickering at him from the table. Alistair shot a glare over his shoulder as he raked his hands through his hair as best he could. The worst of it he shoved behind his ear as he waited for the door to open. He was in it to win it now for sure.

Like he expected, Garrus was at his favorite massive gun, running another calibration in his endless array of them. At least the turian only gave him a politely confused look as he entered, door closing behind him.

“Shepard, need me for so-”

“I have flexibility.”

The silence echoed the cracking in his voice. He swore he heard a gasp from behind the door, but there was no way to confirm it. Besides, all his attention was to the man in front of him, watching his every move.

Problem was, he was a goddamn turian. He didn't have eyebrows or a hairline they could raise towards. Instead, there was just hard... whatever he was made out of. It was metallic, he remembered that much from class. His mandibles were twitching, however, as his mouth opened and shut a few times as he tried to think of what to say.

Was the translator broken? Alistair checked his wrist – nope, it was working just fine. Shit.

“What?”

Garrus' voice made the blood flow to his face so that he matched his hair. The door was closed, so there was his method of escape. Somewhere, he swore he heard Alec Ryder reminding him never to leave himself without an exit within Turian range.

Hopefully the old motherfucker never saw this; First Contact had nothing on fucking up flirting.

Alistair took a deep breath as he looked to the side. His fingers found a lock of his hair and twisted it around – an old nervous habit he had broken thanks to the Alliance and their regulations. “I... have flexibility. You know... to match your reach.”

It was a response four hours, twenty five minutes, and three seconds after the conversation had ended. Honestly, he wasn't surprised Garrus was a little confused. If all else failed, he could use that confusion to make a quick exit.

So, he slid one foot back towards the door. Then another, and soon he was making his way to smashing the button to open it and run for his goddamn life. His face was hot enough to make a sun look cold, and if he didn't move faster the tears would follow.

And nothing was less sexy than a red faced, crying redhead.

“I didn't... huh. Never knew you had a weakness for men with scars.”

Cerberus must've put something good in his bones, because the rate he whipped his head around should have broken any other man's neck. Garrus was still looking at him, his composure shot to hell in a hand basket.

Good thing he wasn't the only one.

Alistair recovered somewhat. “Uh... yeah.”

If you could call a two year crush a 'weakness', sure. He had a weakness alright, and it was only going to be solved by... whatever turians had down there. Maybe he'd need to make a stop at Mordin to find out what.

Garrus chuckled slightly, and the sound did awful things to his stomach. “I think that could be arranged, sure. Why not? Just, uh... need to figure out how it would work.”

He reached out, hand brushing against the man's cheek. “You're blood red, by the way. Is this a human mating ritual thing I should know about?”

That tone of voice meant that the asshole was joking. Still, Alistair smiled a little as he reached up to brush his fingers against the other man's hand. Just as hard and bony as he had imagined all those times he'd caught himself staring at him.

If he was dreaming, he didn't want to wake up.

“Nope, just an Alistair Shepard thing.”

“Good to know.” The turian looked towards the door. “Uh, you should probably get going. I think we just shifted the assets of a small country in bets right now.”

It was a sin to leave right then, but Garrus was right. Nodding, Alistair was the first to break contact as he headed back towards the door. Still, something made him look over his shoulder, back to where his... well... they'd figure that out later... was standing. Smiling maybe? Definitely at him.

“Sleep well, Shepard.”

Alistair punched the door and was soon back outside the main battery. Somehow, the table had gotten very full. All eyes were on him as he started towards the elevator, bare feet padding across the hard surface.

Did this count as a walk of shame? Because it felt like a walk of shame.

At least he had managed to get his thoughts out this time. That was enough to bring small comfort to Alistair as he rode the elevator back up in his quarters. No doubt the whole crew – especially Joker – would be awful the next time he saw them. However, part of him couldn't find the fucks to give as he stood there, red faced.

He had to save those fucks after all; Garrus would need at least one.

“I can't believe I did that.” A smile stretched across his face as he leaned against the wall. “Shit.”

That shit was echoed when he fell face first onto the floor of his quarters. Still, it was hard to be too annoyed as he laid there face down, going over the conversation. It wasn't the most sophisticated way to get a date, but it worked all the same.

 


End file.
